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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342781">Invidium</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehearts/pseuds/subtlehearts'>subtlehearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Character Death, Dark Magic, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mental Disintegration, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Solitary Confinement, Torture, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:53:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehearts/pseuds/subtlehearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Herondale, driven mad with longing for Tessa Gray, cannot endure his feelings for her without running the risk of putting her in danger. He finds a temporary solution: a hatred potion, one that causes him to absolutely loathe Tessa.</p><p>The members of the Institute quickly dwindle down to Will and Tessa. When Mortmain places an imprisoning curse on the Institute, the two find themselves trapped with only each other for company. Their freedom is scheduled for the end of the year. But until then, Will and Tessa must find a way to undergo the coming months without killing each other. </p><p>When they're driven to near insanity from their isolation Will and Tessa both come to realize that hatred is not all that different from love.</p><p>[available on Wattpad @ subtlehearts]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nate Gray/Jessamine Lovelace, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>London was cold in the springtime. It was so unlike the gentle flowering that overtook the rolling green hills of Wales.</p><p>Will Herondale raised his shoulders to shield against the harsh winds and rain. The howling gusts of debris seemed to mock him. They breezed past his ears, whispering that she hated him, that she couldn't even stand the sight of him.</p><p>He trained his eyes on the wet pavement, pushing forward. He found himself comparing the gray of the cobblestones to her eyes. Her eyes, looking up at him on the roof of the Institute, were a clear window into her heart. He had watched her heart fracture before him. He couldn't do anything to stop it.</p><p>He caused it.</p><p>The memory brought bile to his mouth. He felt as if he were choking down poison every time it replayed in his head. Perhaps the poison was deserved. He poisoned his sister once, though not directly. It had been his foolishness that had led to her poisoning to her death.</p><p><em>He</em> was a poison; a dark blight upon the lives of the people who knew him. He lowered his eyes to shield from the rain, and Tessa's face flashed on the backs of his eyelids. He kept his eyes down— he did not want to see her heart break all over again.</p><p>Will continued onto his destination. The old cemetery. As he approached the fog shrouding the property, he started to hear the ghosts. Their voices moaned and wailed unpleasantly. He did his best to block the noise, shrugging his shoulders so that his collar covered his ears.</p><p>Any mundane walking past the cemetery would see an empty lot. What they would not see, was the rusted metal knocker that materialized on the gates of the entrance. Will raised a gloved hand and let the knocker fall once, twice, three times. The sound resonated through the night.</p><p>The gates creaked open. Will passed through the stone wall and into the grave site. The ghosts were louder here; they seemed to shriek in his ears. Shrieking that sounded so similar to the sound his mother had made when she discovered Ella dead. It was the kind of pain too raw to be heard by human ears.</p><p>As he walked, Will observed the white mist gather until it glowed an eerie blue. He shivered when he stepped through the mist. When ghosts gathered, they took up heat from their surroundings. The mist began to coalesce, taking a human form. Will stepped back; goosebumps pebbled the skin on the back of his neck.</p><p>An old woman in a tattered dress stood before him. Or rather, she hovered before him.</p><p>"Hallo, Mol," said Will. "You're looking particularly fine this evening, if I do say so."</p><p>She looked at him. Old Mol was one of the strongest spirits Will had ever encountered. Ghosts were transparent but she looked to be nearly solid. Her dirty blonde-gray hair was pushed to one side, her rough hands placed at her hips. In the place of her eyes were blue twin flames, which eerily surveyed him.</p><p>"William 'erondale," she said. "Back again so soon?"</p><p>She glided towards the back of the cemetery. Though her feet never made contact with the ground, they were muddy. Will vaguely wondered if she could wash them with water, or if the water would simply pass through her form.</p><p>"You know I missed your pretty face."</p><p>She grinned, baring yellow teeth, the flames in her eyes flickering. Shrouded in the pale moonlight, she looked like one of Hell's princesses. The sight of her should've been frightening enough; she had the type of face that would haunt you at every waking moment. Will was not afraid; he never had been afraid of ghosts.</p><p>He had always been able to see ghosts. He remembered seeing them since he was a child. Transparent little boys and girls flying through the green Welsh fields. He used to run with them, struggling to catch up to them with his short toddler legs.</p><p>The ghosts followed him. Wherever he looked, they were there. Except the ghosts were not of dead children anymore. They were the ghosts of his sins.</p><p>He saw Ella, her misshapen and swollen body lying atop her bed. His doing. Cecily, barely ten years old when he'd left, looking up at her older brother with hopeful eyes, not knowing he was abandoning them forever. Jem, his greatest sin. And Tessa-</p><p>"What d'you want, then, young Shadowhunter? Malphas venom? I 'ave the talon of a Morax demon, polished very fine, the poison at the tip entirely invisible-" She chortled loudly, breaking Will out of his thoughts.</p><p>Idly, Will wondered what she could've done to be buried so far from consecrated grounds. This desecrated lot was where prostitutes, suicides and still-borns were buried, the outcast dead who could not be laid to rest in a churchyard. Will supposed that Molly didn't mind it; she was making the situation quite profitable for herself.</p><p>"No," Will said. "That's not what I need. I need Foraii demon powders, ground fine."</p><p>Molly turned her head to the side, her blue fiery eyes narrowing. "Now what's a fine young man like you want with stuff like that?"</p><p>Will just sighed inwardly; Molly's protests were part of the bargaining process. Magnus had already sent Will to Old Molly several times now, once for black stinking candles that stuck to his skin like tar, once for the bones of an unborn child, and once for a bag of faeries' eyes, which had dripped blood on his shirt. Foraii demon powder sounded pleasant by comparison.</p><p>"You think I'm a fool," Molly went on. "This is a trap, innit? You Nephilim catch me selling that sort of stuff, an' it's the stick for Old Mol, it is."</p><p>"You're already dead." Will did his best not to sound irritable. "I don't know what you think the Clave could do to you now."</p><p>"Pah." Her hollow eyes flamed. "The prisons of the Silent Brothers, beneath the earth, can 'old either the living or the dead; you know that, Shadowhunter."</p><p>Will had never been to the City of Bones, but he did know that the Silent Brothers were extremely old and wise. They were mysterious in their ways; hardly anyone knew the inner workings of their home. Shadowhunters had always been hesitant to descend into the Silent City, only summoning the Silent Brothers to some external point. He always got shivers when Charlotte would summon Brother Enoch to the Institute. He couldn't imagine being forced to live in silence and solitude for near eternity.</p><p>"No tricks, old one," said Will. "Surely you must have heard the rumors running about in Downworld. The Clave has other things on its mind than tracking down ghosts who traffic in demon powders and faerie blood."</p><p>He leaned forward. "I'll give you a good price." He drew a cloth bag from his pocket and dangled it in the air. It clinked like coins rattling together.</p><p>"They all fit your description, Mol."</p><p>An eager look came over her dead face, and she solidified enough to take the bag from him. She plunged one hand into it and brought her palm out full of rings-gold wedding rings, each tied in a lovers' knot at the top. Old Mol, like many ghosts, was always looking for that talisman, that lost piece of her past that would finally allow her to die, the anchor that kept her trapped in the world.</p><p>In her case it was her wedding ring. It was common belief, Magnus had told Will, that the ring was long gone, buried under the silty bed of the Thames, but in the meantime she'd take any bag of found rings in the hope one would turn out to be hers.</p><p>She dropped the rings back into the bag, which vanished somewhere on her undead person, and handed him a folded sachet of powder in return. He slipped it into his jacket pocket just as the ghost began to shimmer and fade.</p><p>"Hold up, there, Mol. That isn't all I have come for tonight."</p><p>The spirit flickered while greed warred with impatience and the effort of remaining visible. finally she grunted. "Very well. What else d'you want?"</p><p>Will hesitated. This was not something Magnus had sent him for; it was something he wanted to know for himself. "Love potions-"</p><p>The ghost screeched with laughter. "Love potions? For Will Herondale? 'Tain't my way to turn down payment, but any man who looks like you 'as got no need of love potions, and that's a fact."</p><p>"No," Will said, irritated. "I was looking for the opposite, really-something that might put an end to being in love."</p><p>"An 'atred potion?" Molly still sounded amused. "Would you like to tell me why you need one?"</p><p>"It's not your business," he snapped. "I'll bring you two pouches of wedding rings. Three, if you stop asking questions."</p><p>"Fine," she agreed. "What d'you need?"</p><p>Will paused. He hadn't expected Old Mol to be cooperative. Earlier today he had been in the library, avoiding Tessa, researching ways to break his curse. Magnus was already working on the task, summoning demon after demon in his small apartment. With each day that went by, he felt as if breaking his curse was impossible.</p><p>It was even more impossible to simply stand by and wait for a breakthrough while enduring Tessa's presence in the Institute. With each glance he stole from her, he was putting her at risk, he knew. It needed to be stopped immediately.</p><p>
  <em>I need to keep her safe. No matter the cost.</em>
</p><p>"I need something that might halt any romantic notions," he said, feeling as if he were swallowing knives. Old Mol said nothing, but he could tell she was dying to mock him.</p><p>Finally, she said: "Love cannot be truly vanquished even with the darkest of magic. Though I do have ownership of a 'atred potion that may be of use to you. It was gifted to me many decades ago by a young pirate. Nephilim, I believe. He was quite the looker. Hair like woven sunlight and a smile that could've brought me back to life. I miss him so. . ."</p><p>Will did not care about this pirate. "I'll compensate you tomorrow. Allow me to have a look at it."</p><p>Old Mol swooped through the ground at her grave site, dissolving into the frozen ground. After a few moments she emerged holding a black crystal vial that gleamed wickedly in the moonlight. Will knew instinctively that this potion was not of angelic magic.</p><p>Will stepped forward to accept the vial. She yanked her hand back.</p><p>"Three bags of rings? Tomorrow?"</p><p>"Yes," he exhaled. He felt as if he were running a downhill race. His breath became short. This was it. The solution to all his problems. One swig and he would never look at Tessa and feel as if he were dying inside.</p><p>She dropped the vial into his hand. Will immediately pocketed it, scared that she would somehow change her mind about giving him the potion.</p><p>"I'd better see you here tomorrow night," she said and vanished into the mist hovering above the ground.</p><p>Will did not waste time. He turned and hurried out of the cemetery, his legs cutting into the wisps of fog gathered in the air. The glass vial seemed to burn through his clothes, chilling the spot of skin below where his pocket lay.</p><p>He passed through the black iron gates and paused to glance up at the clock built into the brick wall. It was half past two in the morning, yet Will did not feel tired. He shoved his hands into his pockets and cut through the quiet streets.</p><p>He knew these streets well. Magnus always summoned him in the dead of night while the Institute was asleep, ordering him to retrieve various substances for his demon summoning rituals. For that, Will was grateful, even though he had to leave the Institute very late.</p><p>It wasn't as if he were going to sleep anyway. He would lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the memory of Tessa's mouth on his, the taste of holy water clinging to her lips.</p><p>Other days it would be the image of Tessa's prone and bloodied body on the Sanctuary floor that kept him up. Except she wasn't unconscious, she was dying from a wound to her chest. Not too far off was Jem's body. Nearby was Ella's. The bodies piled up: Cecily, Charlotte, Henry, even Jessamine, until Will sat up and flung the sheets of his body and went for a walk to clear his head. He wouldn't return until morning.</p><p>Will made a turn onto Kettington Lane. No, he couldn't spend another sleepless night wondering if he would eventually kill the ones he loved. The vial in his pocket grew colder.</p><p>He stopped in front of a large building nestled in the midst of tiny London homes. If any of the neighbors were awake and peered out of their windows at this time, they would probably recognize Will. He came here so often now that it was beginning to feel like a second home.</p><p>Will bounded up the steps and knocked on the green door. A second later Magnus answered.</p><p>"Well come on in, I know you're cold," he greeted. Will shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the armchair in the corner of the sitting room. Magnus had lit a fire; it crackled softly, casting a glow that cast dark shadows onto the fine furniture.</p><p>"It's so bloody cold," Will muttered.</p><p>Magnus smiled apologetically. "I had to lower the temperature for the demon raising ritual. You should know this by now." He beckoned for Will to follow him into the other room. "Did you bring the Foraii powder?"</p><p>"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," said Will as he followed Magnus deeper into the house. The light from the fire faded as they entered an empty bedroom. In the dimness, Will could see smoke scorched onto the walls. He remembered the first time he had come to Magnus.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm here on my own account. I need your help. There is-- there is absolutely no one else that I can ask."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Really." Magnus looked him up and down. Will was drenched in rain; his hands were clenched tightly and trembling faintly at his sides. He was as white as parchment, his black hair dripped onto his face. Will knew he had no business seeking out the warlock in the middle of the night but he couldn't contain himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Very well," he said. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is?" Magnus reached behind him and locked the parlor door. He waved a hand and removed all the water from Will's clothes with a blue flamed flourish.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will shoved his still trembling hands into his pockets. "I need a curse removed from me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Magnus' eyebrows shot up. "Have you been attacked?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will hesitated before answering. "Yes. I'll pay you whatever you want, just help me. Please." His voice caught.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Magnus' gaze softened. "I have enough money. What happened?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mouth set in a hard line. Will had never told anyone of his curse. It felt strange to even consider uttering the words aloud after five years of keeping the secret to himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A demon set a curse on me," was all he allowed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The warlock sighed. "Is that all you're going to tell me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I can't elaborate any further."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After some consideration, Magnus answered. "I can make an attempt to find the demon and demand it to lift the curse. Do you remember what it looked like?"</em>
</p><p>"Will." Magnus's voice broke him out of the past. He was kneeling on the floor, a large leather bound book lay open in front of him. "The powder?"</p><p>He dug into his pockets and handed the packet to Magnus. He watched as Magnus conjured a set of candles which flamed gently in a circle. He dumped the contents of the packet in the middle of the circle. He traced the shape of a pentagram, dragging the fine white powder with his finger. When he connected the last two lines at a point, the flames of the surrounding candles turned blue.</p><p>"Step back, Herondale," he warned. Will remained in the doorway, watching closely. He had seen Magnus perform magic a number of times, both in this apartment and while carrying out his duties to the Clave. He couldn't help but be transfixed by the wisps of magic at Magnus' fingertips. Magic was always something that intrigued him.</p><p>Will always believed that Shadowhunters could perform a lot better if they worked more cooperatively with warlocks. The combination of a lifetime of physical regime and magic could be lethal if utilized properly. The Clave's bigotry prevented the possibility from ever occurring.</p><p>
  <em>There is no future for a Shadowhunter who dallies with warlocks.</em>
</p><p>Will tried desperately to shut the memory out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. Magnus was chanting in a foreign language as the flames began to rise, blackening the walls. Demon summoning tended to do that to the walls.</p><p>Blue light broke through the center of the pentagram like shattering glass. Will could make out the shape of a small horned figure inside the ring of candles. With a powerful gust of wind, the flames gentled.</p><p>"Who are you?" Magnus demanded.</p><p>The demon only hissed in response. Will took a closer look at it. It looked to be about as tall as a small child, with blue scales that reminded Will of the sea. A pair of horns sprouted from the top of its head, resembling a cartoon devil. All it needed was a mini pitchfork.</p><p>"Magnus, I don't reckon this one's it."</p><p>"Are you sure? This one matches the description," he gestured to the demon with his hand. The demon rushed to the edge of the circle and raised its arm. Its fist collided with a shield of aquamarine light.</p><p>"It doesn't have the tail," Will sighed. "It's also quite small."</p><p>"We'll keep trying," Magnus resolved, and with a gesture he incinerated the demon. The flames died down, extinguishing all the light in the room. A pile of ashes and the stink of burned sulfur were all that remained.</p><p>"Thank you," said Will. "I know you are expending yourself for my sake, and for that I am grateful."</p><p>He brushed him off. "This is child's play. I'd been summoning demons since I learned to walk."</p><p>"Magnus." Will took the potion that Mol had given him from his pocket. It was so cold that Will almost flinched when his fingers made contact with the glass. "Are you familiar with this?"</p><p>"What've you got there?" Magnus moved closer and inspected the vial. Even in the dimness it stole away what little light there was, gleaming like the last star in the sky. Magnus began to pace to the sitting room where he could better see.</p><p>"How did you acquire such a potion?" he held up the flask to examine. "This is dark magic, Will."</p><p>"The ghost gave it to me," Will shrugged. "I was only curious as to what it did." He looked up at Magnus.</p><p>"It's called Invidium. If you were to ingest this it would infect your body, mind and soul." He handed it back to Will, who pocketed it. "Why did she give it to you?"</p><p>"I've no idea," he said offhandedly. "Perhaps she wanted to curse me."</p><p>"You wouldn't consume unknown substances. You're not dull, I don't know what she was playing at."</p><p>"Mol didn't strike me as one who sought to harm," Will said. "Hypothetically, if I drank this potion, what would it do?"</p><p>"Well," he started. "It would incite a burning hatred for whatever you intend. You need to be thinking of whoever it is you wish to hate before consumption. It is brewed from demonic magic. It will deteriorate your mind and foster emotions so powerful in their animosity that you will be driven mad."</p><p>"Would it kill the drinker?"</p><p>"No, the effects are reversible. Though the hallucinations may drive you to harm yourself." Magnus raised an eyebrow. "I hope you aren't thinking of drinking it. I can't imagine why anyone would. It does not do you well to dabble in dark magic, Shadowhunter."</p><p>"I was simply curious," Will said resolutely and tipped his head forward as a farewell. "I must make haste. The sun is about to rise."</p><p>With one last glance, Magnus bade him goodbye.</p><p>.</p><p>Will slipped through the heavy doors of the Institute just as the sun began to make its first appearance in the sky. He closed the door behind him gently so as not to wake his family.</p><p>He caught a glimpse of a clock before bounding up the steps to his room. It was only five in the morning. The Institute was silent; all of its inhabitants were asleep. As he neared the corridor where his bedroom was located, he heard the faint clang of metal ringing in the training room. He inched closer to the entrance.</p><p>There was Tessa, brandishing a shining silver knife that ran the length of her forearm. Her brown hair was up in a high ponytail. Will had never seen Tessa with her hair up. He found that it was hard to look away. She fixed her steely gray eyes onto the target in front of her, slicing at the wooden post with large sweeps, and cutting graceful arcs into the air. She was in training gear. It clung to her form, revealing far more than Will had ever seen of her. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and determinedly set her perfect mouth.</p><p>Will looked away quickly. He could've stayed there, watching her train until the sun fully rose, but he could not risk being caught by her. He could not be confronted by her, could not put on a mask of cruelty and watch as she reciprocated it.</p><p>He forced himself to move from his spot and go to his room.</p><p>He tossed his jacket into a corner and sat at his desk. He moved away stacks of books and cold cups of tea and took out a piece of parchment and something to write with.</p><p>He knew that the chances of Magnus finding the demon who cursed him were near impossible but he couldn't help but hope.</p><p>Hope.</p><p>He set the point of the quill onto parchment and began to write. He wrote down everything he wanted to remember of loving Tessa. The storm gray of her twinkling eyes and the depth of her laugh. The way her face lit up when she spoke of the books she loved. How her quiet strength and untamed compassion repaired the cracks in his heart and left her imprint on his soul.</p><p><em>Tess, Tess, Tessa. </em>The sound of her namerang in his ears like a song. He put the words of her heart on paper so that when the curse was lifted and he was cured of the potion, he would remember it all.</p><p>He noticed that the sun had fully risen by the time he had finished. Will folded the parchment paper carefully and tucked it into his copy of <em>A Tale of Two Cities. </em>He hid the book among his other novels on his shelf.</p><p>Swallowing, he retrieved the potion from his pocket. The sunlight glinted off the wickedly sharp edges of the obsidian glass. It momentarily blinded him.</p><p>With the memory of Tessa wielding her blade in his mind, he turned his back to the sun and brought the vial to his lips.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The Englewood Institution of Alchemy is th</em>
  <em>e</em>
  <em> esteemed research facility for demonic lore and illnesses. It is nestled in the mountains of Southern France, founded in the year 1407 by Helena Morgenstern. Englewood specializes in providing care to those inflicted with rare magical ailments. The world's most talented healers conduct their research on the premises; the healers range from mundane to Shadowhunter to Downworlder. They operate under the shroud of near-secrecy; there is hardly any record of such a place existing. Below, Jonathon Shadowhunter recounts his experience at Englewo-</em>
</p><p>"Tessa." A voice sounded from the door. Tessa started.</p><p>"Jem," she smiled hastily and closed the book, tucking it under the point of her elbow. He was leaning against the frame of the entrance to the library, dressed impeccably in his sharp elegant attire. He rested his slender hands casually on his cane.</p><p>"Am I interrupting something?" He gave a small smile and walked over to where Tessa was sitting.</p><p>"No, I was just reading." She sat up straighter in her chair and brushed her hair behind her ears before standing up. She pushed the textbook underneath a pile of paper, making sure to conceal its title with one smooth move. She picked up her hat and coat.</p><p>"To where are we going today?" She came from behind the desk to join Jem at his side. He didn't seem to detect that Tessa was hiding something from him. They began to exit the library.</p><p>She heaved a silent sigh of relief. She had been so careful this past month, researching a cure to Jem's illness behind his back. She knew she was directly opposing his wishes but she couldn't stand by and watch him deteriorate as she grew increasingly fond of him. Someone so lovely did not deserve to die so young.</p><p>Hence, the lone trips to the library, the late-night excursions into the slums, seeking out information from faeries and the like; It was all the more frustrating to be the only one who seemed to care that Jem was dying. No. She knew the other members of the Institute cared, of course they did. Jem's parabatai most obviously did not want him to die. . .</p><p>"Westminster Abbey," Jem said proudly. He broke off, noticing Tessa's twisted up features. "Have I upset you? I would've thought that you would love the Abbey-"</p><p>"No," Tessa cut in and forced a smile to her face. "It sounds lovely. I am simply so excited that I struggled to express myself properly." They were descending the grand staircase that cut through the middle of the Institute. She hoped that Jem would not notice that her grip on the railing was turning her knuckles white.</p><p>"Right." Jem grinned and looked away unsuspectingly. Tessa however, was not as at ease. The memory of <em>him</em> conjured images of a bruised lip, a cold sneer, the dizzying rooftop view of the cobblestones on the ground. Tessa had been proficient in repressing the memories of his cruelty; spending time with Jem helped to alleviate the hurt that came with remembering.</p><p>She no longer felt her heart ache. Now, she only felt a cool indifference, which had been willed into steel. She would not let him get the better of her, and that was that.</p><p>.</p><p>"Oh, yes. It really does look just as I imagined," Tessa said and turned to smile at Jem as he helped her over a puddle. His hand was warm where it rested politely above her elbow and his returning smile even warmer. Tessa felt her heart flare in her chest at the friendly gesture.</p><p>"I shall count that as a blessing," said Jem once they were both upright. He released his hold on her arm and placed both of his delicate hands on his jade-topped cane.</p><p>If any of the tourists milling around them thought that it was odd that someone so young required the use of a cane, or found anything unusual about his pallor or the cast of his features they didn't pause their sightseeing to stare. It was a foggy spring afternoon, and it was unusually chilly, but Jem's presence somehow made her immune to the cold.</p><p>"I was beginning to worry you know," he said while looking at her with a bashful smile, "that everything you encountered in London was going to be a disappointment."</p><p><em>A disappointment. </em>Tessa had once been promised to be given everything upon her arrival in London: a family, a place to live, a new beginning in a city full of soaring buildings and beautiful parks. Instead she'd unveiled a power she never asked for, and with that power came danger and betrayal and death. She'd been thrust into a completely new world and had been forced to navigate it all on her own.</p><p>"Not everything has been," Tessa replied and looked up at Jem. The radiant smile that overtook his face was genuine. <em>No, she wasn't alone.</em></p><p>"I am glad to hear it." They slowed to a stop in front of the grand cathedral. Tessa tilted her head upwards to see the great Gothic spires reaching towards the sky. She squinted slightly as her eyes met the sun, which still managed to break through clouds of thick gray fog.</p><p>"This is really where it is?" she asked as Jem pulled her by the hand towards the large arched entrance. "It seems so. . ."</p><p>"Mundane?" he grinned at her.</p><p>"I'd meant to say crowded." Tessa looked around curiously. Large groups of talkative tourists streamed in and out of the cathedral. She spotted several tour guides lingering by the edges of the room, gesturing to shiny plaques hanging on the walls animatedly while over eager vacationers marveled at the architecture.</p><p>Jem and Tessa slipped by a gaggle of tourists, chattering in American accents. Tessa found herself hanging onto each word, missing her home in New York. She had grown so accustomed to hearing only English accents for the past year and longed for something familiar.</p><p>Jem was familiar. They had been growing closer over the past weeks. Will had been studiously avoiding her, Charlotte and Henry were caught up in issues of Clave and Council and the running of the Institute-and even Jessamine seemed preoccupied. But Jem was always there. He seemed to take his role as her guide to London seriously. They had been to Hyde Park and Kew Gardens, the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tower of London and Traitors' Gate.</p><p>They had gone to see the cows being milked in St. James's Park, and the fruit and vegetable sellers hawking their wares in Covent Garden. They had watched the boats sailing on the sun-sparked Thames from the Embankment, and had eaten things called "doorstops," which sounded horrible but turned out to be butter, sugar, and bread.</p><p>And as the days went on, Tessa felt herself unfolding slowly out of her quiet, huddled unhappiness over Nate and Will and the loss of her old life, like a flower climbing out of frozen ground. She had even found herself laughing. And she had Jem to thank for it.</p><p>He turned to shoot her a reassuring smile as he continued to cut seamlessly through the clusters of people while Tessa followed close behind until they slowed to a stop at the very back of the cathedral. They were in a smaller sub-division of the exhibit, away from most of the crowds. There was only one other person present here, but he seemed to take no heed to the pair.</p><p>"I know we are in a hurry to get to the Council meeting," Jem said a little breathlessly, "but I wanted to show you this. Poet's Corner."</p><p>Tessa surveyed the wondrous display that rose before her. Her eyes roamed among the numerous stone sculptures depicting the writers she so adored.</p><p>"Edmund Spenser, oh, and Samuel Johnson," she gasped, "and Coleridge, and Robert Burns, and Shakespeare-"</p><p>"He isn't really buried here. It's just a monument. Like Milton's," Jem said quickly. He put a hand behind his neck sheepishly.</p><p>"Oh, I know, but- I can't explain it. It's like being among friends, being among these names. Silly, I know . . ." Tessa let her voice trail off until she turned to Jem, who was standing by her politely.</p><p>"Not silly at all." Jem looked directly at her.</p><p>"How did you know just what I'd want to see?"</p><p>"How could I not? When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind's eye always with a book in your hand."</p><p>"You are a good friend. At least, I hope we are good friends. You do think so too, don't you, Jem?"</p><p>Jem nodded. "I'd say we could be the best of friends."</p><p>Tessa opened her mouth to reply but a mocking voice cut in.</p><p>"How absolutely heart warming."</p><p>Will.</p><p>Tessa forced herself to remain composed as she turned to face him. He did not so much as look at her.</p><p>"Will," said Jem. "Decided to grace us with your presence after all?"</p><p>He snorted. "I never said I wasn't coming."</p><p>At that, Tessa looked up at him. He looked as if he hadn't slept for weeks. His coarse black hair was disheveled and his clothes rumpled. There were bruises lacing the back of his hand, which was shoved carelessly in his pocket. An animalistic look overtook his eyes. They were devoid of any sign of life or livelihood. It was as if exhaustion and frigidity enslaved him in eternal torment. Something inside of her was savagely pleased that he looked as if he were suffering.</p><p>"Like what you see?" He narrowed his blue eyes at her. His voice was as smooth and as slick as she had remembered it. She froze.</p><p>"You look unwell," was all Tessa said. She spoke with no emotion while looking him dead in the eyes. It was the first time they had spoken in weeks since the incident on the roof. She felt like she was there again, falling and drowning in his arms from a mere exchange of words. The tension hung between them, thick enough to slice.</p><p>"Your concern is most appreciated," he smirked, and she didn't know whether she wanted to slap him for being so painfully attractive when he smirked, or herself for finding him attractive.</p><p>The words come to her mind, unbidden: <em>Look at him</em>, Magnus had said. <em>The face of a bad angel and eyes like the night sky in Hell.</em></p><p>"Don't be vexing Will," Jem scolded. "It's half past noon, we'd best get going."</p><p>"Right," Tessa answered without looking at Will. She took Jem's arm and allowed him to lead her out of the Abbey.</p><p>The square garden that lay at the front of the Abbey had been filled with people when Will, Tessa and Jem left. Will moved past the crowds, cutting a clear path for Jem and Tessa to follow from behind him. Tessa kept her eyes trained squarely on Will's back with her arm perched under Jem's elbow to hide the faint tremors of anger running through her extremities.</p><p>She was ridiculous; unable to get a hold of her bearings from a short interaction with Will. It made her weak.</p><p>She hated it. She hated <em>him</em>.</p><p>Jem's touch grounded her. He softly gripped her arm as he led her away from the busy garden and down a dirt path that ran along the outskirts of the Abbey. Quickly glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention to the trio, Will took out his stele and touched its tip to the set of oak doors built into the side of the squat stone structure that stood before them.</p><p>Tessa watched, mesmerized as the glimmering inscription faded into the weathered wood like spiderwebs dissolving in water. Will slipped inside, disappearing into the shadows.</p><p>"Come," Jem encouraged her. He held the door open for Tessa as she ducked her head under his arm. The door slammed shut with a resounding bang.</p><p>"Where are we?" Tessa heard her own voice float upwards into the darkness. A moment later, they were bathed in a soft glow, the source being a witchlight stone in the palm of Jem's hand.</p><p>"We're in the Pyx Chamber," Jem told her. The faint white light skirted over the delicate planes of his face and made his silver hair shine. "It used to be a treasury. There are boxes of silver and gold along the walls."</p><p>Tessa studied her surroundings. She saw an altar at one end of the room. As she moved closer to observe it she stumbled on a loose brick on the floor. Jem instantly offered his steadying hand but she didn't need it. She shot him a grateful smile once she'd steadied herself. She thought she heard a snicker come from Will, who was standing by the side with his arms crossed. Tessa tightened her jaw.</p><p>It turned out that the floor was composed entirely of bricks, as well as the ivy covered walls, which reached towards a vaulted ceiling that was barely visible in the dimness.</p><p>"I don't understand. Is this a Shadowhunter treasury?" Tessa asked, puzzled.</p><p>"No," said Jem. "The British royal treasury- thus the thick walls and doors." Tessa glanced at the shut door; the edges of the doorway blended in with the rest of the wall, giving the illusion that there was no way of escaping.</p><p>"But we Shadowhunters have always had access." He smiled at her expression. "Monarchies down through the ages have tithed to the Nephilim, in secret, to keep their kingdoms safe from demons."</p><p>"Not in America," Tessa said, turning back to face him. "We haven't got a monarchy-"</p><p>"You've got a branch of government that deals with Nephilim, never fear," said Will smugly, crossing the floor to the altar. "It used to be the Department of War, but now there's a branch of the Department of Justice-"</p><p>He was cut off as the altar shifted with a creaky groan, revealing a hole of light. Tessa started at the noise. She could see more witchlight beyond the entryway. Will ducked into the hole without waiting for Jem to bring his light.</p><p>Jem and Tessa followed. She lifted her skirts as she stepped over the fallen door. She could feel the roughness of the stone through the thin soles of her shoes. They were in a stone corridor that sloped downwards. Torch holders in the shape of human hands jutted grotesquely out of the walls, providing a means to see in the dark passageway.</p><p>Tessa could not see what was at the end of the passageway. The dimness seemed to stretch on as the slope of the floor grew more steep. Tessa was gripping Jem's arm to keep her balance by the time the torches flamed an ominous green.</p><p>There were engravings on the walls-- a repeating motif. An angel. A cup. A sword. They looked to be very old. Her eyes lingered on them curiously, wondering what it could mean when the corridor began to widen. They came to a stop before a great pair of silver doors. The emerald green flames reflected off of the metal, showering them in ugly green light. There were four C's inscribed in the door in an interlocking pattern.</p><p>Jem pointed to them. "They stand for Clave and Council, Covenant and Consul," he said, before she could ask.</p><p>"The Consul. He's the head of the Clave? Like a sort of king?"</p><p>"Not quite so inbred as your usual monarch," said Jem. "He's elected, like the president or the prime minister."</p><p>"And the Council?"</p><p>"You'll see them soon enough," Will butted in. Like he did outside, Will traced his stele along the carved C's on the door. An iridescent shimmer passed through the smooth grooves of the carving before the doors swung open to reveal one of the biggest rooms Tessa had ever seen.</p><p>A high domed ceiling soared overhead. A stained glass mosaic on the dome depicted the image of an angel rising from a lake. The colored glass glittered vibrant hues of deep blue and gold. Light passed through the glass, casting colorful shadows onto the black obsidian floor, patterning the surface like a starry night sky. A golden chandelier in the shape of an angel hung from the highest point of the dome, its torches blazing.</p><p>She had never seen so many people congregated in one place before. Long curving benches hugged the rim of the room, which was set up like a grand amphitheater. The room was almost full; most of the Shadowhunters were seated already.</p><p>Will, Tessa and Jem were standing at the very top row of the benches. They descended a staircase that cut through the benches to where Jessamine and Henry were seated in the front bottom row. Tessa saw that Charlotte was not with them; she was standing at the front of the room, pale faced atop a raised platform. She noticed that Henry was gripping the edges of the seat. His knuckles were as white as icicles.</p><p>The Clave had gathered today to hear their testament on the events that'd occurred on the night the Institute was infiltrated by Mortmain. He hadn't been able to do it without the help of her brother. The memory of Nate's betrayal ached like a lost limb. She tried not to dwell on it for too long; she couldn't let herself be consumed by her emotions. </p><p>Tessa took a seat in between Jem and Henry. Besides them, Will and Jessamine were bickering.</p><p>"You're crushing my skirts," Jessamine seethed.</p><p>"You look like you're about to go traipsing about Hyde Park and have tea with the Queen after," Will said, rudely kicking the hem of her dress out of the way so he could sit. </p><p>"A lady must always be properly attired to meet the Queen."</p><p>"You would be arrested for dressing like an overly pampered poodle."</p><p>Before Jessamine could respond, a hush fell across the room. Not a single murmur was uttered as Tessa watched a tall, fair-haired man step up to the podium at the center of the room. He walked proudly, his back straight and his head held high.</p><p>"That's Consul Wayland," Jem said to her in a low voice. Tessa could only nod. She was suddenly aware of how the atmosphere had changed. The seated Shadowhunters seemed to lean into the center of the room. They sat upright and hyper-attentive. She watched as another man, shorter with dark hair and a haughty stride, took his place at a lower podium to the left of the Consul.</p><p>"And that's Inquistor Whitelaw," he said. The Inquistor sat stiffly in his chair, assessing the Shadowhunters.</p><p>The Consul did not bother with formalities. He looked straight at Tessa, fixing his icy stare on her.</p><p>"Miss Gray." He beckoned to her with a rune-sleeved arm. Beside her, Tessa could see Jem tense. Tessa could feel a hundred pairs of eyes on her. </p><p>She took a breath and stood. "Consul Wayland." She bowed her head out of respect and was grateful that her skirts covered the shakiness of her knees.</p><p>"A couple of weeks ago Axel Mortmain permeated the wards of the Institute, implanted a spy your midst, and stole a Pyxis. Is that correct?"</p><p>Tessa caught Charlotte's anxious gaze from across the room. She tore her eyes away from her face and nodded. "Yes. It is true."</p><p>"And the spy was your brother, Nathaniel Gray. Correct?"</p><p>She exhaled silently. "Yes."</p><p>A titter diffused throughout the room. The Shadowhunters murmured among themselves in low voices.</p><p>"<em>Quiet</em>."</p><p>The Consul's deep voice commanded everyone to fall silent. The crowd sat attentively once more.</p><p>"You're a warlock." He stated this plainly like it was a certified fact. Tessa was accustomed to the label, even though it was not entirely accurate. </p><p>"I possess no mark, and for that reason we cannot be sure of what I am." The words came out like a well-rehearsed litany. </p><p>"No mark. . ." The Consul speculated thoughtfully. "Very well. Your word will merely be counted as half of a Shadowhunter-"</p><p>At that, Jem scoffed and leaned forward. He looked up at her and gave her a reassuring look yet his eyes were worried.</p><p>"-and you will be allowed to continue assisting in the efforts to locate Mortmain."</p><p>"Thank you." Tessa felt all the muscles of tension in her body release once she sat down and the attention left her. She felt the aversion of their gazes wash over her like water. Jem rubbed her elbow comfortingly.</p><p>"William Owen Herondale, please step up to the Mortal Sword," the Consul announced next.</p><p>Tessa turned her head slightly to the left. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will rise from the bench and kick at Jessamine's dress, making his way to the front of the room.</p><p>He faced the Consul, holding his hands behind his back with ease. His stance was of a man who did not seem to worry about the current state of things. If he was worried, he didn't show it. He was exceptionally good at hiding his true feelings. Tessa knew that for a fact.</p><p>The Inquistor reached under his low podium and pulled out a golden broadsword. Even from a distance, Tessa could see the detailed runes etched into the hilt of the heavy blade. She could feel its ancient angelic power come off of the metal in waves, a low resonating in her bones. The blade shone like the sun at the dawn of time, to which the age of the sword was comparable.</p><p>Inquistor Whitelaw placed the sword onto Will's outstretched arms. His body immediately went rigid. His muscles slacked and his shoulders curved inward only slightly. The sword seemed to be pulling at Will, seizing control of his mind and body.</p><p>"What is your full name?" the Inquistor questioned.</p><p>"William Owen Herondale." His voice was steady. Calm.</p><p>"Why does he need to know his name?" Tessa whispered to Jem.</p><p>He shrugged. "You can never be too certain. Impersonating charms exist, as well as other things that might allow one to work around the magic of the sword."</p><p>"What happened on the night the Pyxis was stolen from the Institute?"</p><p>"Jem and I were under the impression that the Dark Sisters were ensconced in a mansion in Highgate and they were planning on implementing the binding spell on hundreds of automatons that night. We raced to get there only to find an empty mansion and no automatons." Will's voice was slightly bitter.</p><p><em>Of course</em>, she thought. It had been his plan to rush to Highgate without waiting for Charlotte's verdict. She knew it was wildly inappropriate but a part of her wanted to laugh at his shortcomings. Would he be punished? Tessa half hoped so. That way he wouldn't look so smug all the time, like he knew something that she did not. </p><p>She hated that look, hated all of his looks, the <em>way</em> he looked. The way he looked with vampire blood dripping down his mouth. "<em>Come and get me,</em>" he had said with a wild grin. The way he looked after he had kissed her, intoxicated on holy water—</p><p>"Tessa." Jem nudged her arm with his elbow gently. "Are you okay?"</p><p>She blinked and looked down at her hands, which have been scrunching up the soft lace of her dress tightly. She immediately released her hold and felt hot blood rushing back into her fingers like molten lava. There were angry red indents in the palm of her hand in the shape of crescents from where her fingernails dug into her flesh.</p><p>"Of course," she smiled at him.</p><p>"Are you sure? That has been the second time today that you. . ." He trailed off, struggling to find the words.</p><p>"That I what?"</p><p>"You got that faraway look. Sometimes I worry if I do not act as your tether, you will get lost in that head of yours."</p><p>"I didn't know that you've taken it upon yourself to be my tether," Tessa furrowed her brow. "I often get lost in my thoughts."</p><p>"You are similar to Will in that nature. One day I would like to know what you are thinking about."</p><p>Tessa forced a smile to her face; she wasn't delighted to be compared to Will. There was something oddly intimate about Jem's words, and yet the two were only friends. Of that she was certain. She could not burden him with her twisted cogitations. She wasn't sure anyone could understand this darkness that existed in the underlying of her mind. She barely understood it herself. It was beyond her control.</p><p>She returned her attention to Will's interrogation. She had apparently missed a large chunk of his retelling of events. She silently cursed her tendency to run away with her thoughts.</p><p>"What happened when you arrived to the sanctuary?" the Inquistor asked.</p><p>"I saw the warlock with blood on her dress and a dagger not too far off. I assumed she was dead." Tessa tried not to flinch at the ease with which he'd referred to her. It was a cruel reminder of how he would always see her as dirty and barren and <em>other</em>.</p><p>Will continued. "Mortmain thought so as well. He vanished into thin air like a practiced magician when I attempted to maim him."</p><p>"Vanished?"</p><p>"Yes. He possesses magic like that of demons."</p><p>The Shadowhunters whispered among themselves, their hushed voices ranging from worry, surprise and outrage.</p><p>"He's a mundane!" one copper-haired woman exclaimed.</p><p>"What are we to do?" another wondered.</p><p class="">"The boy is lying." Benedict Lightwood's voice rose above the rest. He stood at the front row and looked directly at the Inquistor. "There is no explanation for how a mundane could possibly best a Shadowhunter. Mortmain is the least of our worries. This is all a tactic-- orchestrated by Charlotte Fairchild!"</p><p>A gasp traveled through the crowd. Tessa watched with shocked horror as Charlotte paled visibly at the front of the room. Henry, for once was immersed in what was at hand instead of retreating into his mind. His green eyes were wide.</p><p>Charlotte opened her mouth, struggling to string together the words to defend herself when the Consul banged his gavel. The Shadowhunters fell silent at the sound of the sharp wooden crack. They took longer to quiet down this time. Tessa saw the copper-haired woman from before whisper scandalously behind a hand to her companion. The mood of the crowd was shifting.</p><p>"Silence, Benedict. Let Herondale continue."</p><p>Benedict grumbled before taking his seat.</p>
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